


Experiential Learning

by CmonCmon



Series: Raising Warriors Saucy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Biting, Clone Mom and Clone Dad, Developing Relationship, F/M, Healthy Adult Conversations, Sexual Content, Soft Wars, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon
Summary: Colt makes use of Bly and Aayla's advice. He's always better with a plan.Mature. May not make sense without context.Takes place after "Overnight Sensation" in my "Raising Warriors" series.
Relationships: Colt (Star Wars)/Shaak Ti
Series: Raising Warriors Saucy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924135
Comments: 38
Kudos: 184
Collections: SquadEdee





	Experiential Learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts), [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Overnight Sensation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398483) by [CmonCmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon). 



> What Colt and Shaak get up to after Bly and Aayla give Colt some friendly advice.
> 
> All "Raising Warriors" saucy stories will go in this series since it's not what some folks are into. 
> 
> Here's some feelsy-talky saucy stuff, because there is nothing in Colt and Shaak's relationship that doesn't have HAC
> 
> Super, super grateful to have an excellent smut writer like [PrimaryBufferPanel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/works) as a beta for this!

Colt wasn’t the quickest learner. But with enough available information, he could make a damn good plan of action. 

Even for him, this plan was unconventional.

“ _Oh, Colt_.” Shaak gasped his name, back arching.

And this plan was karking _working_.

The files Bly sent over had been educational and Colt had been a very attentive, and motivated, student.

Shaak was loose-boned and heavy-lidded on the couch, her breath coming in little puffs. 

Colt wanted that. Wanted so much more than that. 

He’d lost track of how much time had passed since they’d clicked off their late meeting at the holotable in Shaak’s rooms, and she’d suggested he not go back to his rooms.

Those words were straight out of the fantasies Colt very firmly would deny losing sleep to.

He couldn’t have planned for that, for the way it would come about, but everything after that? Everything after that he had a plan for.

Colt had peeled Shaak out of her robes slowly, tracking the lines of her body with his eyes, with his hands, and his teeth. Watching the grey bands on her lekku darken and the tips curl in pleasure was as rewarding as the scrape of her nails on his scalp as he knelt beside the couch, elbow braced beside her hips on the cushion.

“Colt.” Shaak’s fangs were pressed into her lower lip, and Colt couldn’t help himself, stretching up for another kiss. Couldn’t stop himself from soothing his tongue over the indents her fangs left behind.

She rapped two nails on his chestplate before smoothing a hand over the pauldron her bare leg had been draped over moments before. “You are still in your armor.” 

“Yes, I am, sir.” He nipped a kiss on her jaw. Colt called her ‘sir’ in the heated, reverent tones his brothers reserved for pet names like ‘cyare.’ 

“Perhaps…” She shifted, allowing him room to press a fresh line of light, sucking kisses down her neck before scraping his teeth over the jut of her collarbones. “Perhaps you could remove the armor.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, before licking at the sharp hollow of her throat. She was just a hint cool to the touch, and there was something fragrant, almost spicy to her skin. Colt was intoxicated, had been since he’d helped her out of her tunic.

“Colt.” Shaak tipped his chin up to catch his eyes. “I would like to touch you.”

He would like those words ringing in his memory for the rest of his life. “I see.”

Colt wanted her touching him. He wanted it so badly, he was grateful for the discomfort of the rigid plastoid. He could restrain himself. He was a battle-tested commander. He’d earned his armor paint, and his scars too. And yet.

“Colt.” Shaak caught his hands, where they’d moved to trace the criss-crossed white markings on her bare thighs. He’d revealed those with a slow drag of his rough palms, easing her leggings down her graceful, muscular legs.

He lifted his gaze from their hands and back to meet hers.

There was something so warm and knowing in her deep, star-flecked eyes. “Is there a reason you would rather not remove your armor?”

_No._

_Yes._

_Kark._

Colt wanted to answer, but he didn’t have the words. He sucked at the lingering taste of Shaak’s skin on his lips as he searched for how to explain. 

“I’m enjoying this.” That was an understatement by lightyears. This was rapidly becoming the best day of his comparatively short, undoubtedly bloody, life. 

“I am as well,” Shaak agreed, and the stars in her eyes twinkled for him. “But I would also enjoy touching you. Tasting you.”

“Sir.” It was a thin, pleading sort of sound. Colt would be ashamed of it some other time. 

“May I do that?” There was just that hint of predator around her softness. 

“Shaak.” Would it be cheating to press the tips of her long, elegant fingers to his temple and ask her to find the words he couldn’t? Colt knew it would be cowardly, at the very least. He sat back on his heels and sighed, like releasing the breath would ease the pressure inside his shell. “I’d last ten seconds if you touched me.” Half that if she tasted him. “I don’t know how this goes with nat-borns, but the advice I got was to take it slow and…” Colt shook his head, sure he was blushing redder than his armor paint. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Shaak made a low, considering sound. “I see.”

Colt ducked his head. He wanted this, and everything about this, but if they both enjoyed what he’d been doing, that was enough. The other was just--

_Clack_

His head snapped up.

_Clack_

Shaak had found the snaps of his pauldrons and was working her way across the line of catches. 

“Sir.” Colt didn’t know if he was asking her to stop or to hurry up. One of her hands left the task to lightly rake her nail along the muscles of his throat. “Please.”

“You have gone more than sufficiently slow, Colt. Very enjoyably slow.” Her hand came up to brush his cheek before joining the other on the next row of closures. “But if I’m rushing you…” Shaak let the offer hang as she lifted the pauldron off his chestplate. 

“Shaak…” Colt couldn’t help a rough laugh. “Not rushing. With a vod… we don’t get to ‘take it slow’ much.” There wasn’t the time, or the privacy, for anything more personal. More intimate. The vode tried to be discreet, tried to keep things to dark bunkrooms and off-shift corners, but even when there was time, there was still the risk of discovery. And the consequences that followed.

The risk of discovery was different, but still present, with a Jedi.

Shaak made another sound of agreement, leaning forward to kiss him. Soft, reassuring, melting. Colt sank into the kiss, tasting her for a long, needy breath as her fingers searched the edges of his armor for release tabs. 

“Let me.” Colt wasn’t ready to open his eyes yet. “Can have all of it off in seconds.”

“I am not in any hurry.” The want in her tone dragged his eyes open, and Colt was greeted by the sight of his naked Jedi assessing him with a hungry, considering gaze. 

“But…” Colt felt the words vaporize as she eased herself to her feet, towering over him like a monument, a goddess, all muscle and curve and white on red. 

“Colt, stand up for me.” Her tone was honey sweet, but her expression was firm. 

His mouth went dry. Colt pushed himself up, breathless for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

Shaak trailed her fingers over his scuffed, scarred armor. Caressed. 

_Karking hells_.

She chuckled, and Colt tried to drag himself back under control and into his own head.

“Thought too loud, huh?” he guessed, still not quite up to breathing.

“I enjoy it.” The palm of her hand resting over the patched lightsaber burn on his chestplate. “It is nice to know what you are thinking sometimes.”

“Any time you’re curious,” he promised. Before he could say more, before he could explain or apologize, Shaak found the catch on his side, loosening the top half of his armor. Colt looked down at his armor, hanging in disarray. There was an order in removing the pieces. He and his brothers learned it as young cadets. He felt something flare warm and molten in his chest at the thought of her learning how to remove it with him. “I need my…” 

She hummed in agreement, reaching to catch his bare hand in hers. 

His gloves and helmet were the only gear he’d taken off so he could touch her, taste her. “Shaak, let me.”

“I’m enjoying this.” Her smile was all fangs now. Shaak raised his hand to her lips. She’d kissed his knuckles before, something he’d found impossibly tender then. He braced himself.

She didn’t do that this time. Shaak held his gaze and drew his thumb into her mouth.

_Into her mouth._

Colt must have made some embarrassing noise; her eyes turned mischievous as she rubbed her tongue against the pad of his thumb. 

“Shaak, please.” Colt couldn’t. He wanted. She was. “Please.” 

Shaak smirked, teeth grazing his skin before she pulled back. “Help me take your armor off?”

Colt reminded himself to breathe. “Yessir.” 

He guided her hands to his bracers, his rerebraces. The parts clattered to the floor. Colt’s blacks were exposed, piece by piece. Colt had been down to his blacks around her, hells he’d been shirtless around her. Multiple times. But he was in _her_ rooms, under _her_ hands.

“Shaak?” One of these times, he’d call her name for a reason, not just out of inarticulate need.

“Right here.” Of course she was. 

Her hands were still resting on him, one cradling the back of his neck, the other light on his arm. Shaak closed the inch between them to kiss him, sweet and reassuring. 

She was beautiful and powerful and so karking kind. And she was naked in his arms.

Colt rested his forehead against hers in a kiss she probably didn’t recognize. “I’m a di’kut. I should be naked in bed with you right now.”

That earned him a throaty laugh and a quick kiss. “Indeed. How dare you waste so much time pleasuring me until I am a useless sack of tangaroots.”

Those words brought a rush of pride. That was everything he wanted, and yet Colt hadn’t scratched the surface of the ways he was dreaming of exploring her. 

“Come to bed, Colt.” She tapped her forehead against his. Colt’s heart squeezed and he wondered if she had any idea what that gesture meant to him.

“Yessir,” he managed thickly, letting go of her to work off the bottom half of his armor, boots up. He glanced up from his busy hands to see her watching like he was putting on a show. Colt’s fingers slowed on the plates. 

She wanted to see _him_. 

She wanted to touch _him_.

Colt knew, in a vague sense of existing around her for months, that Shaak didn’t dislike the way he looked. Maybe he’d see her watching now and then, thought it was nothing more than curiosity or observation. She didn’t object to his touch. Kriff, she was the one who would touch his hand or stroke his cheek. But to have her watching him undress like there was something to see, like he wasn’t one of a million…

He got back to work, stripping off piece after piece with well-practiced precision, stacking the parts with a flourish. Colt didn’t look away from her as he stood, removing his kama and finally stripping down to nothing but his second skin. 

Shaak watched him like a hunter waiting for an opening.

Colt slowed to a stop, one hand on the neck of his uppers. The tips of her lekku were restless, the white a rich cream and the grey flushed dark, just a hint of her fangs peeked over her lip. He’d seen her flushed like that before, back when they’d sparred together the first time. That _had_ been in the files Bly sent over. The flush was an involuntary response. Interested. Aroused. 

He wished he’d known that at the time.

Colt tugged his top over his head, reluctant to break his sightline for even a moment. He straightened up and dropped the layer over his discarded armor. Colt wanted her eyes on him. His hands fell to the waist of the bottoms.

“Colt.” It wasn’t quite her most commanding voice, but it was in that system.

“Sir?” He waited, fingers at the edge of the fabric. Shaak closed in, her nails trailing his jaw, and down the line of his chest, and leaving shivers in their wake.

Her hand rested on his. “May I?”

Colt nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He dropped his hand to her hip, breathless again. Her bare skin was so near his own.

Shaak eased the layer down, far gentler than he and his brothers had ever been, like she was unwrapping a Decant Day gift. That sort of deliberate care was enough to make him restless. He was a vod, a CC. Colt had spent his life prepared to handle pain. This warmth and tenderness. This pleasure was too much, too insidious. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t--

Her nails lightly raked down the muscle of his thigh and Colt forgot every objection. Maybe he’d projected his doubts, or maybe she’d simply wanted to do it, but the gesture drew a choked off sound. 

“Shaak--” He attempted to form words as she stroked the fabric down his calves and to his ankles. Somehow, she even made something as clumsy as this graceful. Shaak looked up his bare body to meet his gaze. “Karking hells.”

Colt stepped out of the bottoms, trying his best to look like he wasn’t a breath away from falling to his knees to crush her to him. He kept it together, offering a hand to help her up, and hissing as her nails found his other thigh and raked up. 

Colt had included the fangs in his fantasies, but he hadn’t given enough thought to the nails.

“Oh?” Shaak didn’t stop at the hip, trailing her nails the rest of the way up, over the thick scar tissue at his hip, over his ribs, and pausing at the circular burn scar on his chest. 

He stopped breathing, but his heart was ready to jump through his ribcage. 

She glanced up at his face for a heartbeat before leaning in and pressing a kiss on the scar.

_Too much._

“Shaak.” He tipped her face back to his and kissed her. Not sweetly, or reassuringly. He wanted her. Colt kissed her with lips, tongue, teeth, calloused hands smoothing down the delicate underside of her lekku until she made a half-swallowed throaty sound against his mouth. Colt broke the kiss to put a breath of air between them. “Too rough?”

“No.” Shaak’s words were slow and breathless. “Perfect.” She nipped his lower lip with her fangs, the barest scrape of pressure. That drew a gruff sound from his chest. “Teeth?”

“Yes.” _Karking yes._

“Because they’re dangerous?” she teased. Trooper stories claimed Torguta bites were poisonous.

“Because they’re yours.” Colt shifted to ease her lekku over his shoulders to make tangling their bodies together more comfortable. The cool weight of her lekku set shivers across his skin and a low gasp out of Shaak. _Thank you, Bly._ “And you are dangerous with or without them.”

The words drew a new sound, a soft choked whimper as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her arms tightened around him. 

“Thank you.” She pressed the words against his skin with a kiss and Colt held her. He didn’t think he’d done anything, but it had clearly meant something to her.

He turned to rest his lips beside her montral. “How about that bed?”

“Yes, Commander.” Shaak flashed her fangs as she smiled, and Colt was pretty sure it’d turn out pretty well even if things hadn’t gone to plan.

Colt eased his hands down her back and over the muscular curve of her rear to scoop her up. That earned a happy sound to compliment the friction between their bodies.

“Colt, your side.” It wasn’t quite a scold.

“Cleared to return to all regular activities last week.” Colt hoped this counted as regular going forward. He navigated them into her bedroom and sank down on the bed. Shaak stayed wrapped around him, slowly rocking on his lap. “That’s…”

“Too much?” She raked her nails lightly through his hair.

“No. It’s good.” Better than good, and he was already aching. And Shaak knew. She had to. She continued rolling against him until he caught her hips to still her.

He shifted her off of his lap and onto the bedspread, hands still on her, kneeling between her knees. To touch this much of her at once, to have this much of her skin against his, was so nearly overwhelming, but he didn’t want to stop. The plan had been a good one, to find enough ways to please her that this part would be an afterthought, but he had underestimated. 

There was no way this could ever be an afterthought.

He braced himself over her, one hand careful to shift her rear lekku out of the way as he eased her back, reclining her on the pile of pillows.

Accidentally squashing a headtail was a moodkiller, General Secura had been very clear.

“Is that who I have to thank?” Shaak splayed herself more comfortably against the pillows, eyes bright and teasing.

“I-- It wasn’t…” He wanted to defend himself, or explain, or something else, but Shaak wrapped one long, muscular leg around his waist, dragging him closer, and any chance of forming words went out the airlock.

“Aayla has not been particularly subtle about her interest in Commander Bly.” Shaak’s nails raked lightly up his back and Colt was too lost not to groan and arch at the sensation. “I’ll remember to thank her.” 

Shaak’s words were a warm, wet breath on his skin and Colt was edging closer to desperate as she pressed them closer together. “Shaak, I should… let me…” He dragged his palms over the markings on her thighs, marveling at the softness of her skin. The information had been very clear he needed to be thorough or he might hurt her.

She eased herself back and Colt thought for a moment she was agreeing. Instead, she trailed a hand down her body and between her legs. Colt made a choked sound and hoped that image burned into his eidetic memory forever.

Shaak held up two glistening fingers. “I am very ready.”

 _Oh, kark him._ Colt caught her hand and brought it to his lips, to enjoy the way the teasing grin gave way to something hungrier as he sucked the taste of her from her fingers.

“Colt.” Shaak sounded as desperate as he felt.

There was something in her tone, something that sounded on the edge of pleading, and Colt didn’t have it in him to make her wait. She could have anything she wanted from him. 

Shaak’s leg wrapped more securely around his waist, and Colt took the hint. 

He’d read the brief. He wasn’t completely inexperienced either. She was just different than what he was used to, but the mechanics were the same. She said she was ready. 

Colt eased himself in, eyes locked on hers.

Some part of his brain, older than the Template, rejoiced. The searing pleasure of the moment was enough to drag his breath out in a long, desperate groan. It was different from what he’d done before, but perfect. So perfect.

Shaak was arching into his hands, eyes closed and lips parted. Colt couldn’t help but drag her closer, wanting her pressed to him, collected in his arms. Possessive and protective at the same time. 

Impulsively, he worried the fine skin of her collarbone between his teeth and Shaak arched higher.

That shift was enough to grit his teeth. The pleasure was soaking his brain, frying his wiring. Colt advanced his hips as slowly as he could, judging her reaction. Didn’t matter if it was the best thing he’d ever felt in his short, bloody life, he refused to risk hurting her.

“Oh, Colt.” Shaak rocked herself on him as her nails bit into his shoulder. A thin, reedy whimper escaped.

“Are you…” How could he be breathless? 

“Good.” She hooked her other leg around him, drawing him that much closer. “Colt.” 

He was going to say something, but Shaak used the leverage of her legs around him to drive him deeper and Colt choked on an embarrassingly needy sound. Her fangs were bared, one of her lek wrapping around his upper arm like it might help pull him to her.

“Karking. Hells.” He was _trying to go slow._

“Colt.” Shaak’s nails raked a slow line down his back and the warm sting only served to sharpen his want. “Please fuck me.” 

Hearing those words out of her mouth exploded the last rational objection left in his head. He could only manage a gasping attempt at _yessir_ before his body took over.

He rolled with the grip of her thighs, moving only as far out of her as her hold would allow, and grinding back in as she made low, mewing cries. The sounds she made were almost as good as the wet warmth of her holding him so tightly, so deeply.

He would not rut like a shiny, shoot off before they even got started. He would not. He’d wanted this for too long.

“Shaak.” He shifted her in his hold around her back, more of her weight on his thighs to draw her up nearly upright. Colt cradled her closer, driving up into her. Closer, but not close enough. He wanted her to be the only thing he could touch, only thing he could smell and taste. Colt buried his face between her neck and lek. “Shaak.”

She was speaking, whispering breathy praise, using the strength in her legs to counter his thrusts, drive him deeper, harder. 

_Too much. Kark. Too much._

“Shaak.” He was not too proud to beg. “Sir. Please.”

She couldn’t know what he was begging for. _He_ didn't know what he was begging for. This was nothing like taking the edge off with another CC in the few minutes they could both spare. The intensity of the pleasure, the overwhelming want and need, it was too much. He could barely keep himself together.

“I have you.” Shaak pressed him closer. Her lekku were wrapped around him, her legs driving her closer, matching his tempo, and her nails raked his back lighting up even more nerve endings. It was too much. Too many sensations. Too much he’d only dreamed of feeling. “I have you, Colt. It’s okay.”

She leaned away from him just far enough to catch his mouth, tangling their tongues, sharing their breaths. Colt whined as her fangs brushed his lip. “Please.”

“Yes, Colt, yes.” She might have been answering or encouraging, but she was nipping her way down his throat, and Colt’s thrusts were desperate. His arm not supporting her back gripped at her hip, bruising, wanting. “So good, Colt, yes.”

Her encouragement, and the pressure of her fangs on the muscle at the join of his neck and shoulder, raced pleasure up his spine, through his blood. Too much. 

It was overwhelming. The pleasure pounded through him, stunning, shattering.

He was dimly aware of his own voice, of hoarse, aching praise against whatever flesh he could press his lips to. Everything fell away but the consuming pleasure.

Eventually, Colt came back to himself. He went boneless, trying to ease himself on to his side, but his body ignored him. And yet, the world seemed to tilt for a moment as their positions reversed, and he sunk back into the nest of pillows, with his Jedi still cradled in his arms. Had she...?

“Sir?” It was as close as he could get to a complete thought. He held her close, but his arms were clumsy. All of him was. “Okay?”

“Mmm,” Shaak agreed with a smirk. She ran her tongue over the bite mark she’d left at the base of his neck, stirring a fresh shiver. “You?”

If there were words for what Colt was, he didn’t know them. He was sapped and in hyperspace at the same time. There was a suspicious lump of emotion welling up from his chest and into his throat. He ought to move, get them both cleaned up, ought to be doing something. Instead, he smoothed a hand down her side and watched the lek on his chest curl and uncurl contentedly. 

Maybe she felt pretty good too. Colt pressed a kiss between her montrals. He’d do better next time. Now that he had some practical experience. 

Shaak made a low rumble in reply, a purr almost like the sound of a pleased tooka.

Next time, he promised himself as a lek wrapped happily around his forearm. 

Colt had always been a hands on learner.


End file.
